Poem #12: Phone Call after My Father's Surgery Today

At the first sound of my mother’s voice—
for a slice of a second—
my heart was a stone sinking me down,
but it was just her voice
roughened by lack of sleep,
by their 4 a.m. alarm, the pre-surgery dance
of doctors in and out, and the waiting,
waiting amongst strangers
who were also waiting
in rooms designed for waiting
with things to read while waiting.

“Hi, Caroline,” and her momentary pause.
What things can travel through your brain
in the shortest length of time!
And—in that second—I cursed a world
that could keep a daughter working
right on through such a day.
Are we so used to these bodies
we’ve been loaned that we keep on doing
what we do--making copies, taking notes,
attending meetings about meetings?

It was three when I finally called.
“He’s with a physical therapist already,”
she said, and what she didn’t:
"And the world can go on like we know it
for a little while longer now."